


I Believe You

by wendellgee



Series: I Believe You 'Verse [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Friends to Lovers, HP: EWE, M/M, Not Epilogue Compliant, Post-Battle of Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-13 02:52:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 22,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3364991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wendellgee/pseuds/wendellgee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reeling from their roles in the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry and Draco find comfort in the most unlikely of places: each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hiding

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not JK Rowling, I don't own these characters, and I definitely don't have the publishing rights… I'm just toying around with a bit of head-canon based on a relationship with a boyfriend I had in college.
> 
> Updated weekly!

The Great Hall was full of families trying to find each other and mourning their fallen siblings, spouses, and friends. My father was off doing what he does best: schmoozing and politicking. Probably trying to convince everyone he'd changed sides again. It made me sick. Leave it to my father to use a tragedy of this extent to his advantage. I looked at my mother, who was standing with Crabbe, or was it Goyle's, mother. It didn't matter - all the Death Eater wives were pretty interchangeable. All that did matter was the fact that I couldn't sit in there any longer. I could feel eyes watching my every move and I could hear the whispered accusations as loudly as if the speaker was standing next to me. _That's Draco Malfoy... He's a Death Eater... He cursed Katie Bell…_

I'd heard more than enough so I snuck out of the Hall and stood in the hallway, unsure of which way I should go. Something bumped against me and I turned to see... absolutely nothing. Of course, there was only one explanation. "Potter, is that you," I whispered.

Potter pulled the Invisibility Cloak off, the static from the cloak making his already ridiculous hair even worse. He quickly tried to smooth it down, but it was useless. "Malfoy?"

"What are you doing out here? Shouldn't you be with the Weasels?"

"Weasleys," he corrected absently. "And, yeah, probably. Shouldn't you be with your family?"

I shrugged. "I had to get away. I couldn't stand it."

"Me, too." He tilted his head and looked at me. "How'd you know it was me?"

I arched my eyebrow and smirked, remembering the day on the Hogwarts Express when I caught him eavesdropping on us and broke his nose. Breaking his nose hadn't been nearly as satisfying as I thought it would have been, but it still felt pretty good. It was Potter, after all. "An invisibility cloak is wasted on you." 

Potter sighed, obviously remembering that day as well. "I was thinking about hiding near the lake until the Great Hall begins to clear out. You can come with me if you want." I tried not to let him see how much his offer surprised me. He rolled his eyes at my lack of response. "You want to get out of here. I want to get out of here. The odds are good that there's no one by the lake. You might as well come with me."

"Fine." I fell in step with Potter, wondering what was going on in that empty little head of his. He'd just killed the Dark Lord. Was he now on a mission to capture the surviving Death Eaters? I had heard the rumour that he wanted to be an Auror. If I went off with him, was he going to kill me? He'd almost killed me once before. I put my guard back up, but then my curiosity got the best of me. "You know I'm a Death Eater. You know what I've done. Why are you being so nice to me?"

Potter shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I didn't think it through." He ran his fingers through his hair again, calming it slightly. "We can fight tomorrow. Right now, all I want is some peace and quiet. Rita Skeeter will be looking for me soon enough and I really don't want to be found."

I was going to say something, but then I realised how tired he sounded. I decided to accept the olive branch he was extending. "Tomorrow." I held my hand out and he shook it, slowly, reluctantly. It was shaking the slightest bit. Was he afraid of me? Maybe he should be, but at any rate, I'd honour the truce today. It wasn't like we were going to have a reason to cross paths ever again. "Truce, then?"

"Truce." Voices echoed off the stone walls; people were coming towards us. Potter shoved me into a crevice in the wall and dove in after me. I felt the cloak cover us, Potter's body pressing against mine. He was warm, trembling, and smelled like pine trees. It wasn't a terrible experience.

We waited for the family to pass by where we were hidden. Once we were in the clear, I pushed him off of me. "I think we're OK now." He stepped back and pulled the cloak off of us. I pushed him again, more gently this time. "Come on. Let's get going before we cross paths with someone else."

We stuck close to the shadows and made our way to the lake easily enough. Potter spread the cloak out to cover the ground. We leaned against a tree trunk, looking out at the water. It wasn't perfect, but it would do. It was quiet and that's all I wanted. 

The cloak was barely wide enough for the two of us, our legs pressing against each other. We couldn't have been much closer, unless one of us was on the other's lap, and the silence was practically deafening. We couldn't hear any of the cacophony from the Great Hall. I sighed, my body relaxing. "Good choice, Potter." I said it quietly, hoping he wouldn't hear the near-compliment.

"I thought so." Damn. He had.

We sat in silence for about half an hour before I realised he was asleep. "Potter?"

"Malfoy?" Sleep slurred his voice.

"You fell asleep. I wasn't sure you meant to do that. You know, Death Eater sitting right here." I tried to keep my voice light, but the joke fell flat.

"Maybe I don't care if you kill me any more. Maybe I don't care about anything any more." I was shocked at the admission. He'd just done the impossible - he was a hero. _The_ Hero. Instead of claiming the fame that was so rightly his, he would choose death? At the hands of a Death Eater? I didn't understand, or maybe I didn't want to. 

Potter took his glasses off and tucked his chin against his chest. It couldn't possibly be comfortable. "Leave me alone and let me sleep." Although his eyes were closed, he must have felt me looking at him. "I'm fine, Malfoy. I just killed Voldemort, dying in the process, I might add. I think I'm entitled to a nap."

"I'm not arguing that particular...You died?"

"I'm entitled to a nap." Potter sidestepped my question. "If you want to go, go. I'll stay here. I'm a big boy. I can take care of myself."

I'm not quite sure why, but at that moment, I was determined not to let him out of my sight. "I'll stay with you." Potter fell back to sleep quickly, but I remained awake. On guard. I wasn't going to let anyone bother him. He deserved whatever peace he could get, while he could get it. I scoffed at the thought: a Death Eater, protecting the Saviour of the Wizarding World. I sighed and tried to get more comfortable.

Potter slumped against me, his head on my shoulder. The old Potter-hating side of me wanted to push him away and make fun of him. The part that had agreed to the truce, the part that was tired of all this bullshit, decided to let him sleep. I had watched that gigantic oaf carry his lifeless body to the castle. If he was really dead when he had been brought back to the castle... I rested my head against Potter's and tried to clear my head of everything related to the past several years.

I had just decided to wake him, when he snorted and moved so that his arm was around my waist, his head more firmly on my shoulder. It was a little too friendly for my tastes, truce or not, and I pushed him off of me as hard as I could. He fell over and landed on his face. 

Anger flashed in those bright green eyes, and for a moment, I thought he was going to pull his wand out. "What the fuck, Malfoy?"

I responded the only way I knew how - matching anger with anger. "I'm not your fucking pillow, Potter."

"You're definitely not warm and cuddly like one, that's for sure."

"Prat."

"Ferret." Potter shook his head and looked at his watch. It was heavily damaged, an outward representation of what the boy who wore it was on the inside. "I should probably go any way."

"To the Weasley's?"

"Why does it matter?"

"Just curious." I had a sinking feeling that I was always going to be obsessed with him. I needed to know he was going to be OK. I was worried about him; he obviously wasn't in good shape. "You don't really have a home to go to, do you?"

"Malfoy," he growled through gritted teeth. "Your point? Please."

"Nothing." I shrugged. "I forgot that we're not friends." The sad thing was, that was the truth. For a moment we lived in a world where we weren't enemies. It was weird.

Potter was taken aback. "What?"

"Nothing. Never mind. We're done here. Go home, or wherever you're calling home lately." I stood up, dusted myself off, and headed toward the path that led to the castle. 

"Malfoy, did I do something?"

I'd already started walking, but at his question I stopped to look at him. "You did nothing except be yourself. I'm sure my parents are looking for me." I started walking again, feeling his eyes on my back, but refusing to turn and look at him. The path was long and void of humans, reminding me of the empty halls of my home. There wasn't anything for me at the Manor any more, but Hogwarts didn't have anything to offer me either. 

I stopped and looked back. Potter was still staring at me, an odd expression on his face. He waved and then pulled the cloak over his head. It'd been a long day and while I didn't want to return to the Manor, I was looking forward to sleeping in my bed. Try as I might though, I couldn't stop wondering about Potter. If I didn't have anything to look forward to, what did he have?


	2. Obsession

I had been tossing and turning for hours, finally giving up to sit on my window ledge. I looked out at Mother's expansive garden. The sun was starting to rise, and it looked absolutely beautiful. Mother definitely knew what she was doing out there. Not sure of what had kept me up all night, I let my thoughts wander everywhere and anywhere they wanted to go. My brain flooded me with thoughts of Potter: rescuing me from the Fiendfyre in the Room of Requirement, sitting next to him at the lake, the feel of his body pressed against mine, the weight of his head on my shoulder, the sound of his soft breathing as he slept.

I shook my head at the ridiculousness of it. Why couldn't I get him out of my head? I hated him. Didn't I? Despite the fact that my room was warm, I shivered and accio'd a blanket from my bed. I wrapped myself up in it and sat there until the sun had fully risen. Once the sunlight filled my room, I got dressed and prepared to go down for breakfast. I was interrupted by the Weasley's little owl flying at my window. I let him in, curious as to why they would be sending me anything. I untied the note and read it.

**\-- Malfoy, I forgot I still have your wand. Would you like it back? Potter --**

**\--Of course I want it back, you moron. Manor. 7 PM.--**

**\--Didn't your mother ever teach you any manners? Prat.--**

**\--Will you be coming or what?--**

**\--Yes. I. Will. Be. There. At. 7.--**

**\--Good. I'll open the floo for you. Malfoy Manor Drawing Room.--**

I smiled after I sent the little owl on its way for the final time, happy to know that I was going to see him again. My mother knocked on the doorframe, making me jump. "Draco?"

"Yes, Mother?"

"Breakfast is ready if you're hungry."

"Thank you. I'll be down soon." I tucked all of Potter's notes under one of my floor boards. It was my favourite hiding spot; all of my most treasured keepsakes were under there, which now included practically illegible notes from Potter. 

#

I spent the rest of the day in my room, trying to read books that weren't the least bit interesting. Once again, all I could think about was Potter. It didn't help that earlier in the afternoon he had sent the Weasley's owl back with a message asking me to meet him at 12 Grimmauld Place instead because he didn't feel safe at the Manor. 

Honestly, I couldn't say I blamed him. If there was anyone more _persona non grata_ at Malfoy Manor than Harry Potter, I had no idea who that person would be. Once we agreed on the change of location, I went down to Mother's parlour to let her know that I'd be going out. She wasn't there so I wandered outside. I didn't see her so I headed towards the garden. She was in the little gazebo that she went to when she wanted to be alone. I hadn't thought once about Aunt Bellatrix since learning about her death, but it dawned on me that Mother probably hadn't been able to stop thinking about her sister. I wasn't sure if I should try to comfort her or leave her be. 

Obviously, she'd chosen that location for a reason, so I decided not to bother her and headed back inside to pace my bedroom. The closer it got to seven, the more anxious I became. Realising that pacing wasn't making the clock move faster, I flopped on my bed and groaned. I should have written Pansy back; it would have passed the time. She had sent a note this morning, asking how I was doing but there wasn't much to tell her… I mean, how was I supposed to tell my ex-girlfriend that I spent an afternoon with Potter and hadn't been able to stop thinking about him since? She'd think I was insane. I probably was, but that didn't change a damn thing. 


	3. Stay

I had barely stepped out of the fireplace when Potter thrust a box at me. "Open it." 

"I'm perfectly aware of what one should do when presented with a box." My hands were shaking so badly, the box was rattling. "What if..." I stumbled back and fell on the couch, afraid that my wand wouldn't respond to me. 

"I don't know," Potter admitted, looking everywhere but at me. "It's yours, though. You should have it." He paced the small sitting room. "Open the damn box, Malfoy."

"Stop pacing. You're making me nervous." I snapped before placing the box down on my lap. I patted the cushion next to me. "Sit. Please."

Potter stopped short, tripping himself in the process. "Sitting." He fell down next to me, jostling me as he hit the cushion.

"Thank you." I couldn't stop shaking, but I was able to pull the lid off of the box. Ten inches of beautiful hawthorn wood lay on a bed of tissue paper. "That's my..." My hand shook even worse as it hovered over the wand. It jumped into my hand without hesitation. "Lumos," I whispered. The dim room lit up. I cancelled the spell, my chest so tight I couldn't breathe. "Pot…"

He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and I leaned against him. "You're welcome," he whispered, somehow knowing that anything else would ruin this new dynamic between us. 

I don't know how long we sat there like that; it was as if we were frozen in time. The mood was ruined when my stomach growled. I'd been too nervous to eat, not that my lack of attendance at the dinner table had been noticed. "I didn't eat before I came," I said apologetically. 

"I didn't eat either." He struggled with something for about a minute before making a decision. "You're staying for dinner." 

I was surprised by the command. Potter definitely needed to learn some manners. "What? Why?"

"I guess I'm still honouring the truce," he said with a crooked grin I'd only seen once or twice. It dawned on me that he looked happy. I couldn't think of a single time I'd seen him happy, not that our encounters had ever been joyful ones to begin with. "Stay."

I leaned against him again, feeling his solid form pressing against my body. I had no reason to stay, but I also had no reason to leave. "OK." I liked being with Potter. We hadn't once spoken about the War, or Death Eaters, or being the Boy Who Lived, or what life after Hogwarts was going to be like. And that was perfectly fine by me.

Potter's house elf, Kreacher, made up a simple meal of soup and sandwiches which he served to us in the sitting room. "Master Malfoy at the Black home! Returning to visit the ancestral home of your family!" The ancient elf smiled at he as he handed me my sandwich.

I was shocked that a) the house elf recognised me and b) that I had no idea that this house had been in my mother's family. "This house belongs to the Black family?"

"Well, it's mine now. Sirius… Black... left it to me." There was obviously more to the story, but I didn't want to press for details. "It's not much to look at. Only a few rooms are clean, but if you want, I can give you a tour."

"Maybe another time." We ate in silence. Once we were done eating, I felt that if I stayed any longer, I'd be wearing out my welcome. "I should probably leave. Mother must be worried."

Those bright green eyes searched my face. "Did you tell anyone you were coming here?"

"No." I looked at the floor. My cheeks were burning and I could still feel Potter looking at me. "Too many questions, and I'm not sure I have the answers." A nod was the only response and I wondered what he was thinking. I stood up and smoothed my robes out. We slowly walked to the fireplace. It seemed like neither one of us wanted this night to end. I looked at him and swallowed hard. "I guess this is it. Thank you for my wand."

"You're welcome." He smiled softly. "Have a nice life. Et cetera, et cetera."

"Right." I cleared my throat. "Um, you, too." 

#

I picked my wand up out of the box and looked at it. Potter could have done a thousand things to it, least of which was destroying it, but he had saved it. It was such a Gryffindor thing to do. Such a _Potter_ thing. I smiled at the thought, despite the face that I didn't feel like smiling. I was confused by the complex emotions coursing through me. I hadn't wanted to be alone, but everyone I would have sought out was either going to avoid me or want to talk. Potter? He just sat there, comforting me with his presence, his silence. It was unlike anything I'd ever experienced.

Potter. Stupid Potter. Stupid, perfect, Potter. I sighed as I put on my silk pyjamas, pretending not to notice that they were the colour of his eyes. Why did he have to be exactly what I needed right now?

I ended up pacing my room for an hour, unable to think of anything else but Potter. It was getting annoying, but there was no denying that spending time with the raven haired boy had affected me. I went to the room where we kept our owl and wrote a note to him before I lost my nerve. 

**\--Potter, may I come over tomorrow? I'll bring dinner. 6? Malfoy--**

I knew it was extremely bad manners to invite oneself to a person's home. I really didn't care. It felt right. I owed him for returning my wand and since he wouldn't come to the Manor, I'd go to him.

It felt like forever but finally our owl returned. I smiled at the response. He had tried so hard to make it sound like he didn't care, but I knew better.

**\--Sure. I don't have anything better to do.--**

I was going to have dinner with Harry Potter. _Again._

The world was a very strange place.


	4. Kittens

I stepped out of the fireplace, dusting the soot and floo powder off of my favourite suit, mindful of the picnic basket in my hand. Potter was laughing at me. "What's so funny, Potter? You've never seen a bloke with a picnic basket before?"

"Not you."

I accio'd the blanket off of of the couch and spread it on the floor in front of the fireplace. A quick 'incendio' and there was a roaring fire. It reminded me of shagging Pansy in my bedroom at the Manor before everything went pear-shaped. I quickly changed my train of thought, afraid of where those thoughts would lead me. "Nice response, by the way."

He shrugged. "I didn't know what to say."

"A simple 'yes' would have sufficed." I pulled out a bottle of my father's best firewhisky and two rocks glasses. "I nicked it from my father's supply. I don't think he'll notice it's gone."

"Planning on getting me drunk, Malfoy?" Harry smirked. Was that a joke? Were we actually becoming friendly?

"Planning on getting ME drunk." I sighed. "It's the only way I can fall asleep since..." I hadn't been drinking lately, but there had been a time in the not-too-distant past where passing out was my only escape from the mess my life had become.

"I stopped sleeping and started drinking, too. Even getting drunk couldn't take the edge off, though."

"At Hogwarts?"

"I'm the Boy Who Lived, remember. You don't think I couldn't get an endless supply of firewhisky and hangover draughts from the house elves?" He spat, anger burning in his eyes.

My eyes widened at the unexpected glimpse into Potter's past. "You didn't!"

Potter laughed, but there was no trace of mirth in it. "I did for a while, at least. Right after Ced…"

"Sssshhhh," I said as I spread the food out. "I'm not here to talk." I reached out and moved his hair out of his face so that I could see the famous scar up close. "It's still there."

He pushed my hand away with a little too much force. "Your Mark?"

I nodded, leaving my sleeves down. I didn't want to see it, let alone show it to him. "I had hoped it would go away," I mumbled. I could feel myself losing control of my emotions and tightened down on them, shoving them back into the little box they had lived in my entire life. Now wasn't the time to give them free reign.

"This is a lot of food," he said, looking at the spread in front of me. I shook my head at the understatement of the year. I wasn't sure what he liked, so I had the house elves make a wide assortment of food, hoping that there'd be something he'd eat.

"Eat, Potter." I chose a filet mignon and surrounded it with a lot of mashed potatoes. I drizzled a little gravy on them and tucked in.

"If you're not here to talk, why are you here?" Potter filled his plate with sweet corn and grilled chicken.

"I don't know," I admitted. "I guess I just don't want to be alone. Eat." It was odd, to choose Potter of all the people to want to spend time with, but I found that I missed him when I went home. There was something about our current arrangement that took away the loneliness and depression that I'd been experiencing since being tasked to kill Dumbledore.

"The food's delicious. Thank you."

"I'm glad you didn't have anything better to do tonight."

"Me, too."

After we'd eaten dessert, we stretched out on the blanket. Potter was on his back, arms crossed behind his head, watching the play of light and shadow on the ceiling. I sat up and watched the flames lick the sides of the fireplace. I'd always loved a roaring fire, even before I associated them with shagging Pansy... and now sitting silently next to Potter. "I don't want to be at the Manor. It doesn't feel like my home anymore." I sighed.

"I don't want to go back to the Weasleys'. Too much attention. Too many memories. Too many empty chairs at the dinner table." He said it quietly, the tone of his voice making it clear just how upset he was. There was a lot of weight on those shoulders.

"You going to hide out here forever?"

He turned his head and looked at me. "Are you?"

I hadn't thought about it that way, but I guess he was right. "Touché, Potter." I lay on my back, but put my hands on my stomach. I wiggled so that I was closer to him. We were pressed together hips to toes and I sighed at the feeling that swept over me. I could spend forever here and it wouldn't be long enough.

"I could fall asleep just like this," he murmured, sounding like he was already half-asleep.

"Am I boring you?"

"You're the one that said you don't come here to talk."

"I don't. I come here for the company."

He snorted. "Because I'm such great company."

"Exactly. Now shut up." I let my hand fall to the floor, knuckles brushing against his torso. I was curious as to what he would do. He didn't disappoint when his hand joined mine. I gasped in surprise as our fingers intertwined. He squeezed my hand, yet refused to look at me.

"I don't want to talk about it."

I squeezed back. My silent agreement that I didn't want to talk about this, either. There was no reason that this should feel so good, so right. Especially with someone like Potter. But it felt good... definitely a thousand times better than similar moments shared with Pans.

#

Potter's snoring woke me up and I couldn't remember where I was for a moment. Then it dawned on me: we were in his sitting room. The fire had gone out and the room was a little chilly, but the body sprawled over mine was warm. At some point during the night, he'd curled up to me, placing his head on my chest, making me his pillow again. This time, I didn't mind. I wrapped my arms around him, trapping him in place. "Father's going to have kittens," I whispered more to myself than anything.

"Don't tell him," Potter whispered as he buried his face in the crook of my neck. "No one needs to know."

My eyes were growing heavy again. "OK. Our secret." I yawned and rolled over to face him. He rolled onto his back and I took the same position he'd just been in. "Besides, who would believe me?"

"Shut up, Malfoy, and go back to sleep."


	5. Girls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the kudos and comments! I've been having a rough week at work and you guys are making me so happy, it's ridiculous.

I woke up again, a few hours later, and managed to get Potter into his room using a combination of spells and brute force. I needed to go home before they realised I was missing, but I couldn't leave without saying goodbye. I found some parchment and a quill and wrote him a note: **"I hope you don't mind that I put you in your bed. I thought you'd be more comfortable sleeping there. Thank you for last night."**

I stepped out of the fireplace and into my room. It looked empty and felt even emptier, if such a thing were possible. My bed looked positively gigantic compared to his tiny little one which wasn't helping matters any. I fell onto it, still in my suit, and hugged a pillow to my chest. It wasn't the same, and I wished that I hadn't put Potter to bed. Sleeping on the floor with him, while not completely comfortable, was better than this.

It had felt like I'd only been asleep for a few moments when I was awoken by a knock on the door. "Drake, are you awake?"

I groaned. Pansy. I really wasn't in the mood to deal with her. "I am now. Come on in."

She took one look at me and clucked her tongue. "You look like shit."

"Well, I feel like it."

"Did you sleep in your suit?"

I decided not to answer her. It would only make her curious and once again, I didn't have the answers to the questions she'd no doubt ask. "What are you doing here?"

"You didn't answer my owl."

"I've been busy."

"Who's the lucky girl?" She sat on the bed next to me and pushed a stray strand of hair out of my face.

"There is no girl."

"Who's the lucky guy?"

I glared at her. "There is no guy." 

"You don't want to talk to me," she pouted.

"Ding. Ding. Ding. A hundred points to Parkinson."

"Fuck you. What's happened to you? You've changed."

"The War happened." I sighed and rolled over so that my back faced her. "I don't want to talk to you."

She lay on her side and fit herself into the curves of my body. It was a familiar position, one that should have brought me the comfort I needed. Instead, it brought an unexpected craving to feel Potter's body against mine. She kissed the back of my neck. "We don't need to talk." Her hand slid under my shirt, hot against my stomach.

Like Potter, Pansy and I were good at not talking to each other. It was the only reason we stayed together for as long as we did. However, unlike Potter, I spent most of my time balls deep in her, chasing the moments where my world was reduced to one single sensation, that one perfect moment where the Dark Lord and his bloody Mark didn't occupy my thoughts. "Pans, I'm not really in the mood."

Her hand made its way to my groin, the gentle brushing instantly making me a liar. "I don't believe you."

I groaned, a slave to my hormones, and let her win this round. This time, as I began to empty myself into her, a face appeared: messy black hair, brilliant green eyes, and a crooked smile. In an effort to not call out his name, I bit my bottom lip so hard it bled. 

"That was quick." Pansy pouted. "You barely lasted five minutes and I didn't come."

"So?" I cast a cleaning spell and rolled over onto my stomach. I refused to look at her, even going so far as to pull the covers up and over my face.

"There is someone else." I sighed. She wasn't going to let this go, especially now that I'd left her unsatisfied, but whatever I had going on with Potter was not her business. "C'mon, Drake, you can tell me."

I rolled over to face her and violently pushed her away. "Do. Not. Call. Me. Drake. I fucking hate it. I always have."

Tears welled up in her eyes. "You're an absolute fucking knob. You know that?" She threw her clothes on. "We're done."

"We were done before the Battle of Hogwarts," I said coldly. "I only let you hang around because you were a decent fuck. Besides, there is someone else, and they make me happier than you ever could."

"Fuck you." She threw the floo powder into my fireplace with more force than was necessary and practically ran into it. I sighed and rolled onto my back. I saw Potter's face when I came, not Pansy, not the bright white light that blinked everything out of existence, not even fireworks. This was bad. This was very, very, bad.

#

I spent the morning and early afternoon locked in my room getting progressively drunker. I'd lost count of the number of glasses of firewhisky I'd drank after the third or fourth. All that I knew was that I finished the bottle and started a second. It was after lunch time when the Weasleys' little owl appeared at my window. I took the note off of its leg and gave it a treat. The bird chirped happily and flew away.

**\--With the Weasleys today. Fred's funeral. Not sure I can get away. Feel free to go to the house if you need to get out of the Manor. I don't mind.--**

Potter's house! Yes! I needed to be at Potter's house! No one would think to look for me there! Despite slurring my words, I was able to make it to Potter's sitting room in one piece.

I looked down and realised that I was in the jeans and hoodie I'd thrown on after Pansy had left. Oh well. Even Malfoys liked to go slumming every once in a while. Despite finishing a second bottle, and getting halfway through a third of firewhisky, I'd managed to sober up by the time that Potter returned home. It was well after midnight and he had also gotten completely pissed. Obviously, being with the Weasleys had really upset him. I wondered what happened. He was crying, but when he saw me, his face lit up. I matched his smile with one of my own. "YOU'RE HERE!" He stumbled towards me and then fell into my arms.

I set him back onto his feet. "Of course, I am. Where else would I be?"

He swayed on his feet, blinked twice, and belched. I winced at his lack of propriety, and then realised that was part of what I liked about him. "Your house. Your big, stupid, scary house." He fell against me again. "I'm drunk."

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. "Yes. Let's get you to bed." I pushed him off me and held him steady.

"NO!" He went boneless and fell against me again. "Don't leave me. I don't want to be alone right now."

I sighed and tightened my grip on him. I didn't want to leave him alone. I told myself it was because he was completely shitfaced. There was another reason I wanted to stay, which I chose to ignore. Thinking about it wasn't going to help the situation any. "Go to bed, Potter."

"Come with me."

"I'll sleep on the couch."

"NO!" He stomped his foot. Was I really going to watch the Saviour have a breakdown like a spoilt five year old being denied his favourite toy? I might have enjoyed the sight in the past, but now I just felt bad for him. "I'm not going unless you come with me!"

"You really need to go to bed." I sighed, starting to drag him to his room. "You're a shitty drunk, Potter."

"And you're stupid." He was quiet until we got to his room, and then he said, "I fucked Ginny Weasley tonight. When I kissed her, she tasted like strawberries and pickles." As I stripped him down to his pants and t-shirt, he smiled drunkenly at me. "I don't like Ginny. At all. She was lousy in bed and she tasted like strawberries and pickles," he repeated, mumbling

I raised an eyebrow and tried to pretend that I didn't care that he fucked Ginny. I'd fucked Pansy earlier; in some weird way, we were even. "So you fucked the Weaselette. Am I supposed to care?" I pushed him gently onto his bed. "Bed, Potter. Now. You need to sleep this off."

He got himself under the covers and then patted the bed next to him. "Please?"

I sighed and shook my head. "No. Sleep it off. I'll still be here when you wake up."

"Promise?" He sounded like a child. "Promise you'll still be here?"

I nodded solemnly. "I promise." I tucked him in tight, the way I used to like my mother to tuck me in when I was younger. I wonder if he'd ever been tucked in at night. From the little bit he'd said about himself, I doubted it. Waves of pity washed over me. It wasn't fair that someone so bloody _good_ as Potter was treated so horribly. He had deserved better - much better - and as long as we kept doing whatever this was, I was going to make sure he was treated the way he deserved to be.

Potter whimpered, the sound almost breaking my resolve. I took a deep breath and walked out of the room. I stretched out on the couch, wondering what strawberries and pickles would taste like secondhand, and wishing I was in bed with him.


	6. Birthday

Potter pushed the fairy cake over to me, a smirk on his face. "Here. Happy birthday." The candle's flame flickered before growing brighter. "It's from Honeyduke's. Along with your gift. I, um, I know how much you like sweets." He nodded at the gaily wrapped box sitting to my left.

"You know today is my birthday?" I couldn't remember saying anything to him about it. We hadn't really talked since his drunken confession about fucking Ginny Weasley. Then again, when had we really ever talked?

"I probably know more about you than you think I do."

"You probably do." I smiled as I looked down at the makeshift birthday cake. "I'm supposed to make a wish now, right?"

"That is the tradition." He returned my smile. "Make sure you wish for something good."

I closed my eyes and thought about what it was that I really wanted. It didn't take long to determine that this was it: I wanted to spend more time not talking to Potter, curled up in front of his fireplace. Recently, I'd been dreading my trips back to the Manor more and more. The longer this thing with Potter lasted, the stronger the pull to stay with him. I didn't ever want to leave Grimmauld Place. I blew out the candle and handed it to Potter.

He shoved the cake-covered end in his mouth and slowly licked the frosting off. "I should have gotten one for myself. That is excellent." He placed the candle on the coffee table and looked at me. "So, what'd you wish for?"

"If I tell you it won't come true." I picked up the fairy cake and pulled the wrapper off it. I took a small bite, getting the frosting on my nose. The way Potter was looking at me made me a little uncomfortable. I held the cake out to him. "Do you want a bite?"

"No... It's... um, you have..." He waved at his nose. "You have frosting on your nose." I tried to wipe it off, but missed. Potter reached over and wiped it off. He held his finger out so I could see it, then he licked the frosting off, making an appreciative humming sound that went straight to my cock.

My cheeks became hot and I began to panic. It was one thing for me to be confused about how I felt for him. It was another thing for Potter to know about it. I closed my eyes, willing my erection away before it became noticeable. I pushed the cake to him. "Have some."

"No. It's your birthday cake." He pushed it back.

"I said have some." I picked it up and tried to shove it into his mouth. He closed his mouth and I ended up smashing it into his lips. He managed to get a piece of it and rubbed it all over my face. We wrestled for a bit and I wound up flat on my back, Potter hovering above me. He was so close to me that I could feel his breath on my face.

He fell to the side, laughing, wiping crumbs and frosting off of his face. "That was fun. Thanks."

I giggled, trying to get the crumbs off of my cashmere jumper. "That was fun," I agreed.

He was quiet for a moment, something flickering briefly in those brilliant green eyes. I looked up at him. My heart was pounding in my chest as I licked my lips and closed my eyes, hoping he'd get the hint.

He did. His lips brushed against mine, moved against mine, until we were breathless. When I opened my eyes, he was smiling at me. "Happy birthday, Malfoy."

#

Potter gently shook me awake. "Hey, are you spending the night?" 

I wasn't sure why he asked. Since the night of Fred's funeral, I'd been spending the nights sleeping on his couch, leaving early in the morning and returning after dinner. The couch wasn't all that uncomfortable, and with a little magic and bedding from home, it was a decent substitute for my bed. "I was planning on it."

"You should go to bed. Sleep in my room tonight. I'll take the couch." 

"It's your bed, Potter."

"And it's your birthday. Sleep in the bed tonight. You have to be tired of sleeping on the couch. You've been doing it for weeks."

I stood up and stretched. "You have to join me." Our kiss had proven that I wasn't confused any longer, and that I would take whatever he'd give me. I wanted him to share a bed with me, even if it was only this once. I watched the emotions flick across his face as he thought about it. I could tell that he was close to a decision. "C'mon, Potter. Bed. Together." We never planned to fall asleep on the floor, but it seemed like we did it almost every night. And every night, I woke up, sent him to his room and went to the couch. It would be nice to sleep on a bed with him… "Just this once? It's my birthday."

We walked to his room, hand in hand, and then stood awkwardly in the doorway. I cleared my throat, walked to my side of the bed, and began to undress. We got into bed and lay facing each other. "Can we talk," I asked.

"I thought that you didn't come here to talk."

"I like not talking to you. It's my favourite part of the day, but we've been doing this for a few weeks and I'm curious. What do you do when I'm not here?"

"I've been avoiding my friends and spending a lot of time working on fixing up the house with Kreacher." He looked away and sighed. When he looked at me again, I could see that he was nervous. "I was hoping to have your room ready for tonight, but there's some doxies and a bogart that I can't get rid of."

I gasped. "You were going to give me a room?" A room? I was going to have my own room. At Harry Potter's house.

"And a key. I know I've already given you permission to come over anytime you want via floo, but I wanted to make it more official, I guess."

I was completely speechless. Unable to articulate the thoughts racing through my head, I just lay there. He gathered me into his arms and pulled me tight against him. I sighed happily, closing my eyes and sinking into his embrace.

Who knew birthday wishes could actually come true?


	7. Film

"Morning, Potter," I said, a smile on my lips. I was currently laying on top of him, nice and warm, and unbelievably comfortable.

"Good morning, Malfoy." He stretched and I rolled off of him to give him some space. "Does the birthday boy have time for breakfast in bed before he leaves?"

I couldn't face him right then, so I talked to the ceiling, a blush colouring my face. "I wasn't planning to go home."

Potter sat up, fumbling for his glasses. "You're staying?"

"Mother and Father went to our villa in France. I was supposed to go with them, but I didn't want to. I told them I had other plans."

Potter looked at me, surprised. "You chose to stay here instead of going to France?"

"I'm happier here. Although, now that I've told you I want to stay…" I wasn't sure how to say what was on my mind. Potter, however, seemed to understand.

"Well, you never know. I could have had other plans, but once again, I have nothing better to do."

"Prat."

He grinned and got out of bed, throwing on a dressing gown before heading out to the kitchen. I stretched luxuriantly in the small bed, which felt too large without Potter's body beside mine. Then I buried my face in his pillow and inhaled his scent. He smelled so good, fresh and clean, with a little something that was distinctly him. I'd know that scent anywhere. It smelled like home.

#

I had almost fallen back asleep when he came back into the bedroom, carrying a tray laden with food. He set it down carefully on the bed. "I wasn't sure what you liked, so I took a guess."

Eggs sunny side up, toast, and sausage filled the plate. A mug of tea was still steeping. "It's perfect. Thank you."

Potter's smile lit up the room. "When you're finished eating, I thought we could spend the day out in the Muggle world, where we wouldn't have to worry about other Wizards seeing us."

I felt a pang of... regret?... that Potter didn't want to be seen in public with me before I realised this wasn't about him being ashamed of us, but more about him hiding from the Wizarding World. He obviously wasn't ready for the attention he'd get. "That sounds like fun. Seriously, thank you for all this."

"I should be thanking you." He reached out and rested his hand on my leg. "Not talking to you and being not-alone with you is the best thing that could have happened to me after... everything that happened."

"I feel the same. I appreciate you not seeing me as a Death Eater and a Malfoy." Even if he did still see me as both, he hadn't brought it up. Yet.

"Well, I appreciate you not seeing me as the Boy Who Lived and all that other crap." I smiled because I hadn't thought of him that way in a long time. Somewhere along the line, he'd become Potter. Just Potter.

As soon as I finished eating, I put the tray on the floor and curled up to him again. "It's easy, you know, to see you as a person, I guess. I spent all those years watching you and wondering if you were going to turn out to be the Dark Wizard my father expected you to be. What it would have been like if we'd been in Slytherin together. I don't know..." I trailed off, unable to articulate how jealous I had been of him and how eager I'd been to push him off his pedestal, blind to the knowledge that he didn't want anything to do with who he was, who he became.

"I was almost sorted into Slytherin, but I told the hat I didn't want to be. I'm pretty sure the Sorting Hat thought I belonged there because it saw the piece of Voldemort I had in me." I could feel my jaw drop. "I was a horcrux," he explained.

"A horcrux? Those things only exist in Wizard Fairy Tales." 

"Then my entire life has been nothing but a fairy tale," he spat out bitterly.

There was so much pain in those words, that I was taken aback. I searched my mind for everything I knew about horcruxes. I wondered what it would have been like to know you had a piece of the Dark Lord in you. How would it affect you? I took a good, hard, look at Potter. The look on his face answered all my questions. "Change of topic?"

"Please."

"What did you want to do today? You must have something in mind." 

"I do. I thought we could go to the cinema and watch a Muggle film. I'll bet you've never seen one."

"I've never done anything Muggle. I'm a Malfoy, remember?"

"I was raised a Muggle and then I got my letter and everything changed." He cleared his throat and I could tell he was picking his words carefully. "There's a lot of things I miss about being a Muggle, like nobody knowing who I am."

I nodded, pretending I understood even though I wasn't sure what it would feel like to be invisible. "I can't wait to see a Muggle film. I bet it will be brilliant."

"You're going to love it!" He smiled at me, and his excitement was infectious. "There's a lot to like about the Muggle life. You should definitely be more open to it. Let me show you how the other half lives!"

Even if I had wanted to say no, there was no way I was denying Potter this. "I think I'd like that," I said softly, mulling over what a Muggle life, a life with Potter, would be like.

#

The seats weren't the most comfortable thing in the world, and I hated the immovable arm rests, but I was curious about what would happen next. "People sit in the dark, in these chairs, and watch moving pictures on that wall?" He had explained it to me when we were on the Tube, but I needed to see it to believe it.

"Yeah. It's a lot of fun."

"Have you seen a lot of films?"

"Not as many as I would have liked to. I, um, I didn't have the best childhood."

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I was starting to become really curious about him. Obviously, he wasn't ready to talk about himself and that was fine with me. I still wasn't ready to talk about certain aspects of my life, either. I could feel him watching me so I opened my eyes to discover I had his attention. "What?"

"You want to know more about me."

"Maybe," I answered carefully. "but we don't talk about ourselves."

"You really want to get to know me," he said just as carefully, his eyes searching for an answer I couldn't give. 

I fought the urge to look away. "I know this all started because I couldn't stand being in the Great Hall... and you were nice enough to not talk to me the entire time we were avoiding...that. Then, you let me stay at your house, so I didn't have to be in the same place as my father. You've never asked a single question about why I so desperately needed somewhere to hide, or why I chose you. I think, at this point, we've been doing this long enough that maybe it's time to change the rules a little."

Potter nodded. "Maybe in time."

He offered me the small bag of popcorn once I got comfortable. The kernels were wet with a substance that was supposed to be butter, which I doubted, but he had said it would taste much better than the regular buttery popcorn and I decided to trust him. I drew the line at drinking a soda, though. There was something off-putting about the brown bubbly liquid. I picked out a small kernel and placed it in my mouth, allowing the flavour of the butter to coat my tongue. "You're right. This is pretty good."

"Told you so." He stuck his hand in the bag and threw a bunch of kernels in his mouth. "Tastes wonnderful," he said around them.

"Don't talk with your mouth full." He grinned, that crooked smile I had grown to love, and then opened his mouth to show me the half-chewed food. "What are you, Potter? Five?"

Before he could respond, the lights grew dim. He shifted in his seat so that our legs pressed together, and he made a point to brush his hand against mine every time he reached into the bag. Once the popcorn had been eaten, Potter's hand found mine and we sat hand-in-hand for the remainder of the film. I saw him watching me from time to time, but the film was so good that I could barely pull my attention away from it. 

The lights came on and we both stood up and stretched. I couldn't take the smile off my face. "That was bloody brilliant, Potter! We have got to do this again! The popcorn, the film, the Tube, everything!"

"Definitely!" He smiled, pleased that he could do something that made me happy.

"This might actually qualify as my best birthday ever."

"That's pretty impressive considering how wealthy your family is. You must have gotten some really nice things over the years." 

"Haven't you heard the saying 'money can't buy happiness'?"

"Yeah, but..."

"But nothing." I looked down at our hands, which had found their way back to each other. His eyes followed mine, and a goofy smile took over his face.


	8. Hermione

"Hey, Potter, what's a tell-eh-vision?" I set the paper down and pointed at the picture in the advert. We had started spending our mornings looking through the paper together, Potter teaching me about things in the Muggle world.

"What?" He looked at the picture. "OH! That's a telly! It's a little box that you put in your house and it lets you... Let's go get one after breakfast!"

"But you didn't tell me what it does!"

"It lets you watch films and shorter films called 'programmes' in your house. They come with this thing called a remote control, which is like a wand that only works on the telly."

"How do Muggles ever get anything done? I don't think I'd ever leave the house."

Before he could answer, the tell-tale sound of the floo filled the small kitchen. He swore under his breath and then ran out to see who it was. "Hermione! Hi! What are you doing here?"

"I needed to talk to you." I could hear her cough and then she asked for a glass of water.

Harry offered to get it for her. As soon as he was in the kitchen, he held a finger over his lips. "It's Hermione," he said as if I hadn't heard their entire conversation to this point.

"I'll be quiet." If she knew that I was staying with Potter, she'd freak out. Neither of us wanted to deal with that. Not now. Maybe not ever.

"Harry? Who are you talking to in there?"

"Just the radio! I'm coming." He left the kitchen. He must have cast an amplification spell, because I could hear their conversation perfectly. "What's up?"

"I'm worried about you. Nobody's seen or heard from you since Fred's funeral. What's going on? Are you drinking again?"

"No! I'm not drinking again. I want to be alone. Nothing more, nothing less. I don't know if you remember, or care, but I had a rough seven years at Hogwarts. Now that everything's over, I don't know what to do with my life. I don't know who I am. I have nothing, 'Mione, not any more."

"You still have us. The Weasleys, me, Ron, _Ginny_."

I could hear him sigh at the mention of the Weaslette. "You don't understand. All you've ever known was Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. I wanted to find someone who treats me as simply 'Potter'. Who doesn't know, or care, who I am or what I've done. You and Ron, you want to talk about things. You want to dissect them. He wants to brag about being on a Chocolate Frog card. I want to forget everything that's happened since I got my letter... with one exception." I gasped at his choice of words. As far as I knew, I was the only one who called him 'Potter' and I wondered if Granger had picked up on it.

"Harry, you've really hurt Ginny." If she heard him, she didn't let on and I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Is that why you're here? Because I fucked her?" The tone of his voice was so cold, I was taken aback. I could hear Granger gasp as well. "Did she send you here to talk me into giving her another chance? It's not going to happen."

"You loved her, Harry. You wanted to be with her... you even broke up with her because you thought it would save her life. You told her that you wanted to try again once the War was over."

"I changed my mind," he said so softly that it confirmed my suspicions that he had cast an amplification spell.

"What happened after you left us in the Great Hall? What started all this?"

"Nothing. Nothing happened. I spent the day with someone, but it's not like it was part of some grand scheme to hurt Ginny." He sighed. "Look, I got really drunk and I made a bad decision after the funeral. A very bad decision." He sighed again. "I've found someone who treats me as if I'm no one special."

My heart skipped a beat at Potter's admission, but my elation was short-lived as the witch began to relentlessly question him. "Who are you with? Are they a Muggle? Did they go to Hogwarts? Were they in Gryffindor? Who is it?" I was furious at her for attacking him like that, but to go out there and defend him would create all kinds of problems that neither one of us could handle.

"'Mione," he started, "like I said, I wanted someone who didn't care if I was the Boy Who Lived. I did find that person, a Hogwarts student, no less, coincidentally right after I left the Great Hall. We spent the day together, and it was amazing." I could practically picture the look on his face, that dreamy little smile he got from time to time. "We've been spending a lot of time together and it's been great. We don't talk about anything that defines us. We don't talk about Hogwarts. We don't talk about the War. We barely talk about ourselves. We basically sit in front of the fireplace and do absolutely nothing." 

"That makes you happy? Doing nothing with this person?"

"Yes, he makes me very happy." I stopped breathing. Potter slipped; a pronoun that gave away too much information. Would she catch on?

"Is he here now?" I sighed. Of course, she caught it. There was a pause. I don't know what Potter did to give it away, but she suddenly shouted, "He is! He's here now!"

"Yes, but you're going to leave him alone."

I could hear her tired sigh. She wasn't getting the information she wanted. "Fine. You have a boyfriend. That's not really why I came here, though. I came to tell you that the Malfoys have disappeared."

"What do you mean, disappeared?"

"The Aurors are capturing Death Eaters and other known Dark Wizards. When they got to the Manor, they were gone. Rumour has it they're in France because the French won't extradite known War criminals."

I had started putting away some of the clean dishes when Granger mentioned France. I dropped the three plates I'd been holding onto. My parents had almost been captured by Aurors? What did it mean for me? Were they going to be looking for me next?

Potter said something about Kreacher's clumsiness and flew into the room. He pushed me against the wall, his wand to my throat. "Did you know they were coming for you? Did. You. Fucking. Know?" His green eyes were filled with sorrow. "Don't lie to me Malfoy. Please don't lie to me."

I had been so wrapped up in sharing my life with Potter in our weird little way, that I hadn't thought about anything else. Including the villa in France. "I didn't lie. We always go to France for my birthday and I didn't go because I wanted to be here." I paled, remembering that my parents didn't put up a fight when I decided not to go with them. Did they think I'd be safer without them? Why? "I can't believe Mother didn't push it. Why would she leave me behind?" Tears welled up in my eyes and I began to shake.

Potter dropped his wand. "I don't know what to think." He shook his head. "I know what I want to think, but..."

I moved in close to him. "I didn't know. I would not lie to you. Not about this. I swear."

He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me in so that my ear was against his mouth. "I'm going to trust you, but if I find out that you've been lying to me about this, I will kill you."

He said it so calmly, it chilled me to the bone. I remembered that night in the Prefect's bathroom, lying on the cold, wet, floor bleeding out because he had beaten me in our duel. He was perfectly capable of killing me; I didn't doubt that for a second. "I know."

"We're going to talk about this." Icicles dripped from his words. "Clean up the mess you made. I'm going to get rid of Hermione."

"I'm sorry, Potter." I looked down at the floor and then back up, locking eyes with him. "You are the last person I would ever come to for help. You have to know that. Even with this," I waved my hand between us, "I still don't want your help. I made my choice two years ago and I'm going to accept my fate."

"I know." It was clear that whatever this was between us didn't change the fact that we had been enemies, and even now, were still on opposing sides. His face softened as he grabbed my hand and rubbed his thumb against my palm. All the anger had drained from him, and it looked like he was carrying the weight of my stupid decisions on his shoulders. He shook his head. "We'll talk." 

As soon as he left the kitchen, I started to worry about my parents. Were they OK? Could I send them an owl? Should I send them an owl? Did Potter realise the danger he'd put himself into by letting me stay? 

"There's one more thing, Harry," Granger said. "This came to the Burrow early this morning. No one recognises the handwriting."

"Mr. Harry Potter, care of the Weasley family." I could hear him rip open an envelope. There was silence, then a rustle as he shoved the paper back in. "Hermione, you've got to leave. I need to deal with this."

"I'll give you your privacy, but please stay in touch. We're worried about you."

"I will." The floo sounded and then Potter reappeared in the kitchen. He was holding out the letter. "This is for you."

I took the envelope and looked at the handwriting. "It's from Mother!" I opened it carefully and began to read:   
**"Dearest Draco, I hope that Harry has been able to find you and get this letter to you. I know that if anyone could, it would be him. He's always had a knack for knowing where you were, hasn't he? They're arresting Death Eaters and putting them on trial for their war crimes. Luckily, your father and I narrowly avoided capture. I pray that you are safe. I'm not sure where you are or where you've been going or even who you're spending your time with, but I hope they can protect you. If you think you're in danger, please come to the villa immediately. I have no doubt that they will be intercepting owls and tracking magic signatures, so please exercise the utmost discretion if you want to contact us or come home. I hope you are well. Love, Mother x"**

"They're OK. My parents are OK." My legs gave out and I fell to the floor, quicker than Potter could catch me. "I should probably go to France. I'll be a huge burden to you. I mean, the Saviour of the Wizarding World, harbouring a known Death Eater? It's too much and I would never ask that of you."

"If you go to France, you'll never be able to come back to England." He sat down next to me, brushed my fringe out of my face, and then held my hand. "I'm not going to let that happen. You're not the person you think you are."

"You can't save me, Potter. You couldn't then, and you can't now." I pulled my hand away from his. "Besides, it's not like I'm innocent. I did things, terrible things, and I deserve to pay for them like any other Death Eater." I rolled up my sleeve, finally showing him my private shame. "Even if I didn't do anything else, I'm still guilty by association. I willingly took the Mark."

He grabbed my arm and traced the Mark, an unreadable expression on his face. "You're not going to Azkaban, either. You'll die there and you'll never see your parents again."

"I'm probably never going to see them again anyway." I pulled my sleeve back down and closed my eyes. "I wish there was a way I could have my mother, my freedom... and you."

"I think you're forgetting one very important thing." 

"What?"

"I'm Harry Potter," he winked at me, that crooked smile firmly on his face. 

#

I had declined Potter's invitation to share his bed again when I sent him to bed a few hours earlier. I had wanted to be alone in the worst way, and now I was. I sat in front of the fireplace, knees hugged tight to my chest, letting the tears flow freely. I couldn't remember the last time I cried, but I was crying now. I cried for my mother, I cried for the innocent boy I used to be, and I cried for Potter.

I wanted to go to France. I deserved to go to Azkaban. I needed to stay with Potter. I didn't know what I was going to do and it was all his fault. His easy acceptance of my coming to the house every night, sitting there in a comfortable silence, drawing strength from the body pressed tight to mine, even spending countless nights on his couch, knowing that I'd be able to see him in the morning... He was a drug, and I was addicted. Oh boy, was I addicted.

Sobs wracked my body. All those years of locking my emotions away, undone in a single moment, because I couldn't stand it anymore. I didn't want to keep pushing them down. I wanted to actually feel something. I should have been more careful what I wished for, because all I felt was pain. Lots and lots of pain. I wiped my nose with the back of my hand. Stupid Potter. Stupid, brilliant, amazing, adorable, perfect Potter. This was all his fault.

I struggled to breathe and twice, I made myself gag. I didn't know it was possible to cry that hard, but apparently, it was. I must have woken Potter up, because before long, he came and sat next to me. I barely recognised his presence, but then I felt a warm hand resting on my back, rubbing it softly, trying to soothe me. "Go away, Potter."

"Nope."

"I said, go away."

"And I said no." He sat there, rubbing my back while I kept sobbing. He sat there, rubbing my back when I cried so hard I vomited. Not once, not for a moment, did he leave my side. I finally calmed down and lay with my head in his lap. The last thing I remember is the feel of his fingers running through my hair, and the peace and serenity that went along with that.


	9. Knowledge

The first rays of sunlight filtered through the curtains and warmed the side of my face. The other side of my face was equally warm, thanks to Potter's chest. I propped my head up on my hand and looked down at the sleeping boy at my side. A blush coloured my cheeks as I remembered what happened. All that crying, and he didn't even blink. I smoothed the hair away from his face, putting the scar on full view. "After all you've seen and done, Potter, you're still the bloody hero. Doesn't it get old?" I sighed and put my head on his chest again.

He wrapped his arm around me and pulled me in close. "No. Not at all." He nuzzled the top of my head, pressing a kiss against it. My skin buzzed where his lips had touched me, and I hoped he would do it again. "Mmmmm. You smell like apples. You always smell like apples."

"Go back to sleep, Potter. You're delirious."

"'M not. Glad you're feeling better."

"I am feeling better. Much better. Thank you."

"That's cos I'm the bloody hero." His other arm wrapped around me, holding me tight against his body. Not that I was complaining. "Who else would I be?"

"My best friend." I sighed happily and snuggled him.

A smile turned up the corners of his mouth. "Breakfast? I can have Kreacher make us something... and maybe we can talk about last night?"

"I don't want to talk."

"That's fine. But if you need to talk, I'm here."

"I know you are. I'm not ready."

"I am." He sat up and ran his fingers through his hair, making it stick up worse than it already was. I sat up and tried to smooth it down. He grabbed my hand. "Don't bother. You already know you're wasting your time." I smiled at that, but the serious look on his face made it disappear as quickly as it appeared. "I want to tell you about my life before Hogwarts. I know you're curious."

"I am, but I'm not sure I want to hear it." If Potter was going to start talking about himself, did that mean that we were finally becoming more than just friends? He hadn't corrected Granger when she called me his boyfriend, but he hadn't confirmed that I was, either. It was confusing.

"You probably don't." He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and got comfortable. "I was dropped off on my Aunt Petunia's doorstep the night my parents were killed. She and her husband considered my parents freaks because they were Wizards, and instead of telling me anything about them, they told me my parents died in a car accident."

I jumped back. "A car accident?" I grabbed his hand and sandwiched it between mine. "A car accident. Your parents were... murdered... and you didn't know."

"When my letter from Hogwarts came," he continued as if I didn't say anything, "my uncle wouldn't let me have it. So, the house was literally flooded with copies of it. He nailed shut windows and doors, and the letters kept coming in. It would have been hysterical, if..." he looked off into the distance, unable to continue. He shook his head. "Any way, he got so mad that they took us out to a stone cottage in the middle of nowhere. Hagrid found me there. He gave me a birthday cake and my letter. It's how I found out I was a Wizard."

My jaw hit the floor. "Really?! You had no idea? At all? We grew up hearing stories about how you survived the Killing Curse. You were a celebrity...well, I guess that was the beginning of your fame." I sighed. "I can't wrap my head around the fact that you didn't know you were Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived." I sighed and then turned his head so he was looking at me. "I am so sorry, Potter."

He leaned his head against mine and took a deep breath. "I hate when people say 'I'm sorry'. What does that even mean? What are you sorry for?"

"What else should I have said? It sucks that Voldemort killed your parents. It sucks that you always had to be the hero. It sucks that you had to be the one to kill Voldemort. It sucks that you don't feel like you can be yourself with your friends." I was afraid I had crossed the line with that last one, but he didn't seem to mind.

"That's better." He pulled away from me and lay back. "Thank you. That's more honest and I appreciate that more than an 'I'm sorry'."

I stretched out next to him and wrapped an arm loosely around his waist. In return, he reached out and traced a faint scar on my forehead. "Who gave you that scar?"

I took a deep breath before answering. "Someone cast a sectumsempra spell in the Prefect's bathroom during my sixth year at Hogwarts."

"Oh." Potter turned a shade of green that I'd never seen before. "I wish I had known what it was going to do before I cast it. The only note in the book I got it from said it was for enemies." 

"We were certainly enemies back then," I said. "I spent a lot of time angry with Snape because of that spell. He shouldn't have saved my life. I wanted to die. In fact, I was thinking about killing myself right before..."

"I had no idea."

I put my mask on, trying to hide the real emotions simmering under the surface. "Well, it's a good thing you showed up when you did. The Malfoy heir? Committing suicide? What a scandal! Being killed by the Chosen One? That would have been the dog's bollocks." I joked, sarcasm dripping off my words. Potter opened his mouth, but I was quicker. "Oddly enough, for all the things I ever hated you for, that was not one of them. You did me a favour that day, even if you didn't know it. I just wish Snape hadn't been there."

"Did it hurt?"

I blinked, surprised, and pulled the bottom hem of my t-shirt up to my chin. All these weeks, and I'd been able to keep both the Dark Mark and the spell's scars hidden from him. I guess that ended now. I watched his eyes track each one of the scars that crisscrossed my chest. A tear ran down his cheek as he finally got the chance to see what he did to me. "It was the worst pain I've ever experienced in my life. Even worse than getting the Mark, and that really hurt." I let my shirt slide back down and flopped onto my back.

"I shouldn't have..."

"Shut. Up. Potter." I sighed and propped myself up on my elbow. "If I'm going to be completely honest, I'm glad that we finally talked about that. I've always wanted to thank you for trying to kill me."

"Do you know how completely daft that sounds?"

"About as daft as you and I declaring ourselves friends?" I laughed. "Life is fucking weird, Potter. Haven't you figured that out yet?"

#

**\--Hermione, I'm checking in as you asked. My friend and I are going to go backpack around Ireland for a while. We've never been and it sounds like a great way to try to put the past behind me. I'll send you an owl when we return. Harry xxx--**

My heart sunk at the word 'friend', but I tried not to let it bother me. "Three kisses, Potter? Really? What is she? Your wife?" I read the note over his shoulder again. "Other than that, it looks OK."

"Do you think the Ministry will intercept it?"

"I don't know. It's worth a chance, I guess. I want to see my mother and they already think I'm in France. If you say you're going to Ireland, they won't expect you to go to our villa."

"What if someone sees me travelling with you? Won't that be hard to explain?"

"I wish I had polyjuice potion, but I can dye my hair, wear dark glasses, maybe a fedora. We can keep our distance from each other. It needs to work, Potter. It has to work."

Potter laughed at me. "I think you shouldn't take instruction on how to go incognito from a Muggle movie." He grew serious again. "I'm not going to be welcome there. Maybe you should go alone."

"I can't do it without you. I need you with me." I shocked myself with my honesty, but if I could tell him I wanted to die, I supposed I could tell him that. 

"If you're sure."

"Positive." I moved so that I was behind Potter, who was still seated at the desk. I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him against my chest. "Thank you."

"I can't wait to watch your father have kittens." Potter turned so he could see me, the smile on his face impossibly large. "I should probably send this to her now." 

"I should send Kreacher to get a few more of my things. He won't be detected." 

"You already have a lot of stuff here." He wasn't wrong. I'd been bringing clothes to his house every chance I got since I started sleeping over. My clothes took up most of his closet and my books and other favourite trinkets were scattered throughout the few clean rooms.

"So?"

Potter grinned at me, knowing he wasn't going to win. "Fine. Send Kreacher to go get your things." He paused for a moment. "Hey, where am I going to sleep?"

Oh. That was a good question. I hadn't thought about that. "Well... the villa is huge, so you'll probably have your pick of rooms. Including mine, I guess."

"Your father would definitely have kittens. Besides, it's not like we normally share a bed. You're still sleeping on the couch." 

"I'm well aware of where I've been sleeping," I said coldly.

"It's not like I haven't asked you to join me," he snapped. "You're the one who declines every fucking night."

"Maybe that's because I'm afraid!"

"Afraid of what?" 

"Afraid that something will happen between us that we can't take back!" 

Potter was confused. "What are you talking about?"

"This! Us! I want more!"

"More what?" 

I sighed and began to pace the study. "Are you really that fucking stupid?! You don't feel it?! How can you not feel it?!"

"Of course I feel it! I'm not completely stupid!" He got out of the chair and leaned against the door frame. The message was clear: he wasn't going to let me out of the room until we were done. "I don't think it's a good idea! That doesn't mean I don't want to be with you!"

"It's not a good idea! In fact, it's a terrible idea! That doesn't change how I feel!"

"Nothing is going to change the way I feel about you! Avoiding it is only making it worse!"

"I'm not going to argue with you about this!"

"There's nothing to argue about!" Potter closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them, he locked eyes with me. "Then why are we shouting?"

"Because you haven't kissed me since my fucking birthday and I want you to!" I felt the heat rise in my cheeks. I turned and looked out the window, instantly regretting my outburst. "I shouldn't have said that."

"Why not?" I could feel his hot breath on my neck mere seconds before his hands grabbed my hips. He pulled me against him, and there was a certain hardness that hadn't been there any other time he'd touched me. "Do you want me?" He rotated his hips slowly, making sure that I was aware of his interest in me. "Answer me, Malfoy," he growled into my ear.

What kind of stupid question was that? I was so hard it hurt and I whimpered a little bit as I adjusted myself. Turning to face him, I whispered, "Yes. I want you."

"Good." His lips pressed against mine and it didn't take long before we were stumbling into his bedroom, our clothing showing the path we took to get there.

#

"Fuck, Malfoy, that was incredible."

"It was," I said, settling myself against him, unable to believe what had just happened.

"And you're OK?" 

There was so much concern, so much love, in those eyes, that I could barely stand it. "I'm fine." I wanted to tell him I loved him, right then and there, but I was terrified to do it.

As if he could read my thoughts, he pressed a kiss to the top of my head. "I know," he whispered. He could have known anything, I guess, but I knew he _knew_.


	10. Kittens

The next morning, I knocked an intricate pattern on the heavy wooden door. "It's our knock. That's how we know it's one of us." I explained. "The house is warded against anyone who doesn't have Malfoy blood, so you'd never make it in anywhere else but this door."

Potter snorted. "Paranoid, much?"

I sighed. "You wouldn't understand. This is our safe house."

"So I gathered when Hermione said that France wouldn't extradite known Dark Wizards." His look was disapproving, but managed to be warm at the same time. "I suppose I could get used to living in France," he sighed. "You're going to have to teach me that knock."

I bit my bottom lip in order to hide my smile. Before I could say anything, my mother flung open the door. "DRACO!"

"Mother!" I ran to her open arms and hugged her as tightly as I could. Once she let me go, I looked over at Potter. "I brought Harry with me. Harry Potter," I said as if the matter needed clarification. 

Potter moved forward so that she could see him. "Hi, Mrs. Malfoy. As you can see, I, um, got your letter."

We were both a bit surprised when Mother hugged him. "Where did you find him? He kept sneaking out of the house and returning at all hours." 

"I was with Potter, Mother. At his house." I looked down at the ground, blushing slightly. "He's the one I've been spending all my time with, and since my birthday, I've been living with him."

"You took Draco in? Protected him?"

Potter blushed and I smirked. Protected me. Kissed me. Fucked my brains out. It was all the same. "It was easy. He's a good roommate."

Mother hugged him again. "Thank you so much, Harry. I knew I could count on you to take care of him."

His blush turned a deeper red. He had taken care of me, alright. "I'm very fortunate, Mother. May we come inside?"

"Oh! Of course! Make yourselves at home. I'll go get your father."

Potter paced the sitting room nervously while he waited for Father to arrive. "Potter, sit down."

"No. Do you have any idea how uncomfortable I am right now? This is a terrible idea."

"Mr. Potter," Father drawled, his larger than life persona filling the small room and drawing all the air out. "Draco, son, it's nice to see you."

Potter made a beeline to the couch and sat next to me. I grabbed his hand and held it between mine. He was trembling. I had no idea that Father intimidated him that badly. No wonder he refused to come to the Manor. "Hey, it's OK," I whispered, leaning in close so that my lips brushed his ear.

Father's brow furrowed and I had a sinking feeling that he knew exactly what I'd been up to while I was staying away from the Manor. "It's nice of you to come home, son. May I ask why you've brought Mr. Potter?"

"I made sure he got here safely," Potter said with a bit of a bite to his words. "I'd also like to talk to you about the War and Azkaban."

"You're wasting your time, Mr. Potter." Potter flinched at the tone of Father's voice. "The Ministry cannot touch us here. Certainly, you of all people should know that, what with all your connections."

Potter paled as Father's eyes bore holes into him. "I... I... know that." He stammered. I could see him gather his courage, and wondered what he was going to do. I didn't have to wait long. "Malfoy would like it if you moved back to England and I'm pretty sure I can make that happen."

"YOU!" Father scoffed. "You're just a boy, and a foolish one, at that."

"I'm the Boy Who Fucking Lived. The Fucking Chosen One. The Fucking Saviour of the Wizarding World. Do you honestly think I can't save your fucking life?" Seven years of pent up anger and hatred made its way from Potter's mouth and he stood up and glared at my father. I tried to pull him back down, but he shook me off. 

Father sat in his favourite seat, the Throne, as I used to call it. Instead of responding, Father laughed. "Believing your own press, I see. You should know by now that all the Daily Prophet publishes are lies." 

I couldn't stand it any more. "Father, Potter thinks that if you agree to give the Ministry the names of other Death Eaters, they'll let you return to England a free man."

"I happen to like France, and I'm certainly not putting my life in Harry Potter's hands."

"Well, I have, and I've done perfectly well so far." I stood up and walked to the Throne. "Listen to me, Father. I don't give two fucks if you live here or die in Azkaban, but I miss my mother and I want her back in England."

"She can't return and now you can't either. Do you really think the Ministry is going to turn a blind eye to the Mark you wear on your arm? Son?" He barked out a laugh. I returned to the couch, and Potter, all my anger drained from me. "Do you really think that they'll give you community service instead of a death sentence because you're Harry Potter's _boyfriend_?" He spat out the word. 

Potter's hand clenched mine so hard, I thought he was going to break all the bones in it. As angry as Father was, the kittens had yet to make an appearance, but they were close. I giggled at the random thought. "Here come the kittens!" I squeaked in between giggles. 

Potter started to laugh, too. "Kittens! We did it!"

Father watched us laugh and I could see the anger building inside him. "SHUT UP!" He roared at us, making us laugh even harder. He shouted again, but neither one of us was paying attention.

Mother ran into the room. "Lucius, is everything OK in here?"

"DID YOU KNOW ABOUT THIS?" He pointed at us, his face an alarming shade of red. "DID. YOU. KNOW?"

Mother winked at me. "Did I know about what, Lucius?"

"That our son and Harry Potter are dating." I could see him struggle to get his anger under control. Mother's presence in a room always did that to him. He was never his real self around her. He saved that for me, and me, alone. 

"Dear, I could have told you years ago that Draco was in love with Harry," she said it softly as she looked over at us. "I believe the feeling is mutual."

We stopped laughing. "Mother? How could you possibly know that?"

"Oh, please," she waved her hand dismissively. "Your obsession with each other has known no bounds. How else would I know that Harry would be able to find you?" 

"You're in love with me? Really?" Those green eyes twinkled. He knew the answer. He'd known the answer for a while.

"Really." I smiled at him. "You?"

"It's not like I have any better options." Potter's smile softened the sharp words. He leaned in to kiss me, obviously done caring about what my father thought. "Of course, I do," he whispered against my lips. "I love you."

"Love you, too," I murmured.

Our tender moment was disturbed by a loud pounding on the door. Mother and Father shared a shocked look. "Who followed you here, Draco?"

Potter answered for me. "No one. We were careful."

"Open up! Ministry of Magic!" 

I looked at Potter and then my parents. "I thought Hermione said that France wouldn't extradite."

"Obviously something has changed," Father drawled. He was back to his old self. He walked to the door and opened it. "Kingsley, nice to see you. May I ask what the occasion is?"

I could see Potter turn pale. Even I knew if Kingsley Shacklebolt came all the way to France, this wasn't going to end well. Kingsley stepped forward. "Lucius and Draco Malfoy, you are under arrest for being known Death Eaters and confederates of the Dark Lord." Two Aurors came in and cast full body binding spells on us. 

"Potter!" I yelped before a silencing spell was cast on us.

Kingsley finally noticed that Potter was there. "Harry?"

"Hi, Kingsley. You don't really have to do this, do you?"

Kingsley looked at him. "We've been working with the French authorities for a very long time to capture Mr. Malfoy. The boy is a bonus." 

"Kingsley, you don't need to do this! Draco's innocent! He hasn't done anything!" I was shocked to hear Potter use my first name. In all of our years together at Hogwarts, and the months afterwards, he'd never used it once. I had begun to wonder if he knew what it was. 

"Did he not curse innocent students at Hogwarts, or am I mistaken?" If I had been able to, I would have bowed my head in shame. I was guilty and we all knew it. 

"Fuck," Potter swore, looking at the ground. "Is there anything I can do to help them?"

"You wish to save the Malfoys from Azkaban? You? They're Death Eaters, Harry, servants of the Dark Lord."

Potter glared at Father before turning his attention back to Kingsley. "I'll do whatever it takes to save Draco. I don't care what happens to his father." 

Kingsley looked surprised, then tired. "I'll send you information about the trials. Go home Harry. Spend some time with the Weasleys. They miss you."

Potter set his jaw. "No. Fuck you and fuck the Weasleys." He said it so calmly it was frightening. 

"Harry," Kingsley sighed again. "Think about what you're saying." 

"Get out of my sight, Kingsley, or you'll regret it." I don't know how Potter was able to stay so calm whilst threatening the Minister of Magic. It was both a thing of beauty and absolutely terrifying. Not even Father could pull off something like that.

Kingsley snapped his fingers, and Father and I were carried out by the Aurors. I looked at Potter one last time before he went out of view. He was resolute. Serious. I may have been a Death Eater, and a terrible person, but I was also Harry Potter's boyfriend. He was going to do something both stupid and brilliant to save my life. It was written all over his face. 

#

I was dumped into my cell and then the spell was broken. I stretched carefully, knowing I was bruised from the rough handling, but it wasn't my body that was aching. My heart was. Being separated from Potter was like having my head held under water. I couldn't breathe and it felt like the world was closing in on me. 

I looked around the tiny cell. There was a bed that looked to be even smaller than Potter's, a filthy toilet and sink, and some scratches on the wall. They looked like fingernails. I wondered what happened to the previous tenant. Had they been subject to the Dementor's Kiss or Avada Kedavra? The Dementors were supposed to have been removed from Azkaban, but I wouldn't have been surprised if it was a lie. 

I tested the bed. The springs had begun to poke through the mattress and it smelled absolutely terrible. Without my wand, I was limited to the spells I could cast, but I doubted I could cast anything within the walls of the prison. I tried to cast a simple cleaning spell on the toilet, but nothing happened. I sighed and lay on the bed and tried not to think about the last time I'd been on a bed, but it was no use.

All I could think about was what it felt like as Potter kissed a path down my body, the clumsy blow job he gave me, the strangled way he shouted my name when he came. The way he looked at me afterward... 

He loved me. Harry Potter loved me. _Me._ A Death Eater. A Malfoy. I deserved the death sentence, and we both knew it. I tried to resign myself to my fate, but I wasn't ready to die. There was so much life I had left to live. A life with Potter. Maybe we'd adopt kids. Maybe we'd get a dog, a cat. Maybe we'd stay in Grimmauld Place. Maybe we'd move to the Manor. Maybe we'd get a little flat in a trendy neighbourhood of Muggle London. I sighed. My future had held so many possibilities, and they were all gone because I had wanted to be like my Father. 

Wanting to be like my father was, without a doubt, the worst thing I could have ever done. Now I was paying the price for embracing a life of hatred and bigotry. For choosing to side with a dangerous, twisted, Wizard who wouldn't be happy until every Muggle was removed from the face of the Earth.

I turned onto my stomach, rested my head on my arms and began to sob. 


	11. Azkaban

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING -- a few references to suicide, with one off-screen death mentioned.

I woke up the next morning, groggy and unsure of my surroundings. The smell was unlike anything I'd ever smelled before. It certainly didn't smell like Potter's room. The memories of yesterday came flooding back: the train ride to France, kissing Potter in a vacant compartment, taking him in my mouth, his fingers pulling my hair so hard I thought he'd yank it out. I remembered how good it felt to hug my mother, to watch Potter stand up to my father, and how hopeless I felt once I was in the grasps of the Aurors.

I wasn't going to survive this. I'd never make it to my trial at this point. I knew I'd kill myself as soon as I received my sentence because they'd never let me out. Not alive at any rate. I supposed that they'd keep me here as long as they could, trying to break me, until I was so broken that death would be welcomed like an old friend.

I sat up and looked down at the ratty clothes they had given me: striped pyjamas that had definitely seen better days and were stained with Merlin-knows-what. I sighed and flopped back onto the bed. I tried to will myself back to sleep, but my body wouldn't behave, my mind too busy spinning with worry about what would happen next. 

An Auror came to the door of my cell. "Malfoy, you have visitors." He cast the full body bind again - as if I would escape, as if I could escape - and floated me down to a interview room. Once I was in the room, he broke the spell and stomped out. I used my new-found freedom to pace the small room. 

The door opened and I turned to see who my visitor was. "Potter!" I ran to him, knocking him off his feet, sending the two of us tumbling to the ground. I clung to him, my head on his shoulder trying to breathe in and memorise his scent.

"Hi, Malfoy." He nuzzled my neck. "I missed you last night."

"I missed you, too. What's going on? Why are you here?"

Potter shrugged. "I had nothing better to do."

"Prat." I took a good look at him. There was something different about the way he was dressed, and then it dawned on me. He was wearing my favourite cashmere jumper. It was a dark green that made his eyes look incredible. He was going to have to borrow it more often. "My jumper looks good on you." I stepped back as I realised that this wasn't a social call. Something had happened. Something bad. "What happened to Father? Is Mother here?"

Potter nodded slowly. "She's with Kingsley."

I got up and started pacing the room again. "Father killed himself, didn't he? He said that he'd rather die than spend another day in here."

"Your mother seems to think so. She's with Kingsley, um, talking about the, um, specifics." Potter stood up and walked over to me. He embraced me again and kissed my cheek.

I got as close to him as I could. "I wish there was a fireplace in here," I whispered. 

"Me, too." He lead me to a small couch that I hadn't noticed before and we sat down to wait for my mother.

#

I had been sleeping, my head in Potter's lap, his fingers combing through my hair, when Mother came in. Her voice woke me up, but I stayed still. "They're going to release Draco for a few days so that we can focus on the funeral, deal with the estate and some other things." She sighed and pulled a chair close to us. She placed her hand on my chest, as if checking for my heart beat. I didn't move. I knew she would speak more freely if she thought I was asleep. "He'll have to return to await his trial," she continued, "but Kingsley seemed to agree that it would be best if he came home. He's the man of the house now, and will have to act accordingly in order to settle his father's estate. It's better to handle those matters in privacy as opposed to a conference room in Azkaban."

Potter sighed. "I want him home, don't get me wrong, but he's a prisoner. He should stay here. The Ministry wouldn't let anyone else out to deal with something like this." He sighed again, and I could just picture the exasperated look on his face. We both knew that Mother had made a point to remind Kingsley just who I was dating. He wasn't going to be happy with her. 

I could hear Mother's soft smile in her words. "Harry, I know you don't want people to treat you differently because you're Harry Potter, but people will. You should use that to your advantage sometimes. In addition, you've also made it very clear to Kingsley how you feel about Draco. I think he might have been afraid of what would happen if he didn't let Draco at least attend his father's funeral. Shall I remind you of how you threatened him in France?"

Harry tensed up, and I knew he was getting ready to say something he might regret. I pretended to wake up and asked, "How'd he do it? Did he hang himself?" I had briefly thought about doing it myself, but I wasn't sure I could tie a noose. 

"No. He managed to sneak in a potion. He overdosed on Dreamless Sleep."

Of course he would. "Bastard. What a fucking…"

"Draco," Mother's voice held a warning tone. "We can finish this discussion elsewhere."

I looked first at Potter, then my mother. "I want to go home. My home." It was probably unnecessary to add "Potter's home", but I did it anyway. I didn't want her to confuse the Manor with my new home.

Mother smiled,but I wasn't sure why. "We can go to your home, son. I enjoyed my stay there last night. It was nice to visit with all the portraits."

Potter looked at me, a blush colouring his cheeks. "Your mum spent the night in your room. I hope you don't mind." At my surprised look, he added, "Your mum was able to remove the doxies and boggarts on her first try."

"It's because I'm a Black. They listen to me." She smiled, obviously thrilled to be back in her family's house.

"Where am I supposed to sleep?"

She smirked. "With Harry, unless you really prefer the couch."


	12. Nightmare

Mother read through Father's will, the several trusts he'd set up for us, and other equally boring legal documentation that I was supposed to read at some point. I was curled up in front of the fireplace with Potter, pleasantly surprised that he'd mastered the simple spell that would create a heatless fire in the fireplace. It was definitely warm enough outside that a real fire would have been overkill, but the fire had become an important part of our ritual and I needed the comfort the flickering light provided.

We were laying on our backs, hands clasped and watching the play of light and shadow. We hadn't said a word since we left Azkaban, happy enough to be pressed hip to hip and laying hand in hand. I knew Mother kept putting the documents down to look at us, but she hadn't said a word yet. Potter rolled over to face me. "Hey, are you feeling OK? Be honest."

"My father's dead. How do you expect me to be?"

"You know what I meant. Tell me the details."

I sighed. "Strangely enough, I'm fine. It's a relief that's he gone. No more Lucius Malfoy and his ridiculous expectations. No more closed-minded nonsense. It could be a wonderful belated birthday present or it could be the beginning of a nightmare." I clenched my jaw. This conversation was over.

"Change of topic?" He reached out and stroked my cheek. 

I rolled into his touch. "Please."

He cast a silencing spell so Mother couldn't hear him. "I slept terribly last night. I kept thinking about you. What it felt like to share a bed with you. What it felt like to finally kiss you... and other things." He blushed and in that moment, I fell in love with him a bit more. "You're coming home, Malfoy," he whispered. "I will not let you stay there."

"I wish I could say that I couldn't sleep because I was thinking about you, but it's Azkaban, not the Ritz. The Dementors may be gone, but it's still a miserable place." I kissed him chastely on the lips. "That said, I did think about you quite a bit. I missed you." I pushed him on his back and rested my head over Potter's heart. "Have you figured out how you're bringing me home, yet?"

"I did. I haven't run it past Hermione or your mum yet, but I think it will work."

"Are you going to tell me?" I yawned and wrapped my arm around his waist, making myself more comfortable.

"I don't want to get your hopes up." He kissed the top of my head. "Go to sleep. I love you." 

"Love you, too." I heard Potter cancel the spell and his breathing evened out. I closed my eyes and quickly fell asleep.

#

"MALFOY! NO!" Potter's scream woke me up. We both sat upright, looking around the room. Potter's face was bright red and he had tears running down his face. "I'm sorry. I haven't had that nightmare in a very long time."

"What nightmare?" I wiped a stray tear off his cheek. 

"I dream that you fall off of my broom, or that you let go of me on purpose. You die in the Fiendfyre and there's nothing I can do to save you." 

I felt cold. "I was dreaming that you couldn't get out in time." 

We sat in silence for a while. "How did that happen," Harry asked.

"Draco was talking in his sleep." Mother said, shocking both of us. I'd forgotten she was there. "He said something about a fire. What happened?"

"We were in the Room of Requirement. Crabbe and Goyle were with Malfoy, and Crabbe cast the Fiendfyre spell."

"I told him not to! I told him the Dark Lord wanted Potter alive, but he didn't care. He couldn't control the spell and it spread quickly. Too quickly. It killed him."

"Ron and Hermione saved Goyle and I saved Malfoy." He looked at me and grabbed my hand. "I didn't even think about it. I guess I'd always go back and save him, and that's probably why I dream about losing him."

"I was so worried he'd die in there," I said, looking into those deep green eyes. "I didn't think he'd ever be able to outfly the flames. He always suspected me of doing something evil - but when it counted, he saved my life."

"You did do evil things. You let Death Eaters into Hogwarts," Potter said softly. "I wasn't completely wrong, was I?"

"I did it to protect my family! He was going to kill my mother if I failed! He told me to kill Dumbledore because you got my father arrested and placed in Azkaban! I didn't have a choice! Change of topic!"

Potter gathered me into his arms. "A Hufflepuff, a Ravenclaw, and a Slytherin walk into a bar…"

I laughed. "Fuck you, Potter."

#

Potter collapsed on top of me, panting. His green eyes were completely blown out and his forehead glistened with sweat. "I love you so much." His lips searched out mine for a sloppy wet kiss and I moaned in response. I was never going to get tired of this. Of him.

"I love you, Potter." He hummed happily and rested his head on my chest. I wrapped my arms around him and buried my nose in his hair. I placed tender kisses anywhere I could reach, trying to show him how much I loved him. Tears ran down my cheeks unchecked. It was too much. 

I gently pushed him away and moved so that I was sitting on the side of the bed, my feet on the floor. "I have to go back to Azkaban after the funeral. Two more days of freedom."

"I know." The sheets rustled as he moved next to me. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders, and pulled me against him. "What do you want to do?"

"I don't know." I got off the bed and went to the closet. I pulled out a fresh pair of pyjama bottoms and a t-shirt that belonged to Potter. I wrapped my favourite dressing gown around my shoulders and turned to him. "I need tea. Do you want some?"

Potter put his glasses on, so he could take a good look at me. He knew this wasn't about tea. "You want to be alone."

"Yeah."

"Go have your tea. I'll be where when you're done." He lay down and covered himself with the duvet so that only a little bit of his hair was visible. 

I tucked him in and kissed the top of his head. "Thank you."

I walked laps around the kitchen as I waited for the kettle. Finally, the water was ready and I sat at the table, the hot mug in my hands, and thought about how my life had changed. I was no longer a boy. I was the Head of the Malfoy Family. I had to provide for my mother and ensure that the Manor stay in the family. I had to have a son to carry on the family name. I had... to go back to Azkaban, where I'd die. 

The cup fell from my hands and shattered on the floor. I buried my head in my hands and sobbed quietly. I didn't want to get married and have a child. Mother could take care of herself. I didn't care if the Manor stayed in the family. I didn't care about anything but the raven haired boy sleeping soundly upstairs. I sighed, cleaned up my mess, and went back to bed.

Potter was still awake, sitting up with his knees pulled to his chest. He didn't say a word as I crawled into bed with him. Instead he stretched out his legs. I placed my head in his lap and let his fingers run through my hair. "I'm not talking about it."

"Shut up. You're ruining perfectly good silence." His fingers continued to run through my hair, calming me.

I smiled and sat up. This was exactly why I loved him. He understood. "I'm scared, Potter. I'm absolutely terrified."

"As you should be. Now shut up." He lay down on his side and faced me. 

I lay down with my back to him. He spooned me. It was amazing how well our bodies fit together. It was like we were two halves of a whole. I sighed happily and then said, "I don't want to get used to this. Maybe I should sleep on the couch."

"No. You're getting used to this. You're coming home and we're going to do this every night. For the rest of our lives. End of discussion."

"I wish I could believe you, Potter."

"I wish you could, too."


	13. Funeral

The funeral was a much smaller affair than Father would have wanted it to be, but most of his contemporaries were either in Azkaban or had died during the War. Potter and I flanked Mother as Father's casket was placed into the mausoleum. Like everything else about my former home, it was grandiose and pretentious.

I looked away as the heavy door was slid back into place. Mother reached down and squeezed my hand. I returned my gaze to the door and sighed. "It's over. It's really over."

"Yes it is. We get a fresh start."

"You get a fresh start, Mother. Not me. They're waiting to take me back to Azkaban." I nodded in the general direction of several Aurors, standing discretely in the shadows.

Potter moved to my side and wrapped his arm around my waist. "You won't be there long. I promise." 

"My father killed himself because he knew there was no escape from the prison. If I were smart, I'd follow in his footsteps. Better to die on my terms than theirs." 

Mother gasped. "You're going to die on your terms. Not theirs. And you're going to die at home, surrounded by those you love, and at a nice old age. You are getting out of Azkaban. Do not doubt that for a minute, my little dragon."

I could feel my lips curve into a smile at the old nickname. She hadn't called me her little dragon in a very long time, since before I took the Mark. "I should probably go before they come and take me." I hugged her and kissed her on the cheek. "I love you, Mother." 

"I love you, too, son." She stepped away to give Harry and I some privacy. 

Potter grabbed me and held me tightly. "Your father was a coward. Don't ever think that he made the right choice." He kissed me slowly, passionately. After he pulled away, he smiled. "I'm the bloody hero and don't you forget that."

I rested my forehead against his. "I'll try not to."

"I'm not sure when I fell in love with you, Malfoy, but I did, and I will not live the rest of my life wondering what could have been. We're going to tell the Wizarding World that they can kiss our arses and then we're going to grow old. Together."

"I like the sound of that." I took my time kissing him, knowing it would be for the last time. I wasn't coming home and Potter and my mother were fools for thinking that I would. I knew better than to take away their hope, however. I knew how powerful hope could be. I broke the kiss this time. "I love you, Potter." The words got stuck in my throat. I cleared my throat and tried again. "I'll see you around, yeah?"

"Let me walk you to them."

"No. I've got to do this on my own." With all the dignity befitting a Malfoy, I let go of Potter and walked towards the Aurors, positive this would be the last time I saw my mother and boyfriend. 

#

I sat on the edge of my bed, and stared at the wall in front of me. At least this time, the Aurors had been more gentle with me during our travels. Maybe it was out of respect because my father was dead. Maybe it was because I was with Potter. I didn't know, and I didn't really care to. Something caught my eye and I turned my head. My toilet and sink had been cleaned until they shined. I looked down and saw that my mattress had been changed as well.

I got up and walked over to the toilet. There was an envelope stuck to the wall above it. I opened it and pulled out the small piece of parchment folded within.

**Draco - My most heartfelt condolences for the loss of your father. I know this isn't much, but hopefully it will help you while you wait for your trial. - Hermione**

I took the envelope and sat back down on the bed. Was Granger responsible for my upgraded furnishings? That hardly seemed possible. Why would she do something so nice for me? She didn't like me, and I definitely didn't deserve her kindness. I lay on the bed, resting my head on my arms and wished Potter was there. I missed him so much, it was a physical ache. Like nothing I'd ever experienced before and never wanted to again.

I looked at the envelope a second time. There was something else in there. I reached my hand in to find a picture of a very young Potter, all by himself and smiling for the camera. What had Potter been telling her? I suppose it didn't matter. He had managed to use his name, his celebrity, to convince his friend to make my cell a little nicer and give me a picture of him. I hid the picture under my mattress and closed my eyes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the kudos and comments!


	14. Trial

I sat in the small conference room, waiting for my mother and Potter to arrive. It was the day of my trial and I was calm despite the fact that I knew this would be the last time they saw me alive. The trick with making my cell nicer and leaving a photo of Potter behind had been nice, but I could already feel my resolve to live slipping away. It didn't matter that I had people who loved me. All that mattered was that I was going to die here.

I tightened the knot on my tie and wiped my clammy hands on my suit. I didn't have any robes with me; all I had was the suit we buried my father in. It didn't fit me as well as it used to. I'd lost a lot of weight in the month and a half since Father's funeral and it hung awkwardly on my skeletal frame.

Potter walked in slowly. He looked as terrible as I felt and I could barely recognise him. "Potter?" I took a few steps forward and collapsed into his arms. "Potter." 

"Malfoy." He hugged me tight to him, unable to say anything more. At that point, we didn't need words. We had always communicated just fine without them. He dropped his head to my shoulder and sobbed.

I tok a deep breath and tried to keep my emotions in check. "I missed you so much. I... you look like absolute shit, Potter."

"You don't look much better. You're all skin and bones." He stepped back and held me by the shoulders. "You haven't been eating, either. When you get out of here, we're going back to the cinema and getting an extra large popcorn with extra butter!"

I laughed at his child-like enthusiasm. "Maybe this time, I'll even try a cola!"

Mother cleared her throat. "I'd like to see my son for a moment, please." 

Potter jumped away from me. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Malfoy."

I whined at the loss of Potter, but it was cut off when Mother squished me against her chest. "I can't breathe, Mother."

She let go of me, her eyes filling with tears, as I backed into Potter. He wrapped possessive arms around my waist and his hot lips grazed the back of my neck. I closed my eyes and sighed. I missed my mother, but I missed this - missed _him_ \- so much more. She coughed once, to draw our attention back to her. "Well. I'm going to find a seat. I'll see you two soon."

Once she was gone, I wriggled out of Potter's grip. "You really do look terrible, Potter. You haven't been eating or sleeping, have you?"

"You haven't either, so don't think you get to say anything about it."

"Is Mother still living with you?"

"Yes. She doesn't want to go back to the Manor yet. She and Hermione have been great at helping me craft your defence. There's absolutely no way you're staying here." 

"You've been talking to Granger about me?"

"Yes." He seemed confused. "Why wouldn't I?"

"I received a very kind note from her when I returned. There were also some small upgrades to my cell - someone cleaned my toilet and gave me a nicer mattress. Did you have anything to do with that?" His blush spoke volumes. "Thank you. Thank you so much. And thank her."

#

"Mr. Potter, please take the stand." Potter smiled at me before he did as Kingsley asked. "And state your name for the record."

"Harry James Potter." 

"Are you testifying for the defence or the prosecution?"

"The defence." The courtroom erupted as wizards shouted their surprise. Several wizards loudly insulted Potter, and they were instantly removed from the courtroom. "I am testifying for the defence," he said a little louder, in case it wasn't clear.

"Very well, Mr. Potter. Please continue."

"I am here to testify on behalf of Draco Lucius Malfoy." My heart swelled at hearing him state my entire name. I knew Mother had supplied my middle name for him, but it didn't diminish my joy. "Mr. Malfoy, while a known Death Eater, is only guilty of minor offences. He deserves a lighter sentence." 

Once again, the spectators exploded in anger. "Silence!" Kingsley shouted. "Another outburst and I will empty this room!"

"Let the record show," Potter continued as if nothing had happened, "that I have been questioned several times under the influence of veritaserum and my memories have also been studied several times to ensure they have not been tampered with. What you are about to see are my memories of Mr. Malfoy. The good, the bad, and the downright terrible."

He winked at me before puling out a small bottle and dumping the contents into the pensieve. "Here are my memories of meeting Mr. Malfoy. Once, when he didn't know who I was, and again, after he did." Kingsley cast a spell which allowed the memories to be viewed by everyone in the room. I blushed fiercely at the memories of how badly I'd wanted to impress this strange boy. I was probably in love with him back then, and was too stupid to know it.

"You will notice," Potter's voice rang through the small courtroom, "that I didn't think Mr. Malfoy had any redeeming qualities at either of those meetings. He certainly wasn't ever going to be my friend, let alone one of my best mates."

I watched, the blush growing hotter, as Potter worked his way through our next few encounters. He was careful each and every time to point out how much he disliked me and how much he'd never be able to trust 'the blond haired Death Eater'. I hoped to hell he knew what he was doing. I was completely horrified by memories he had of me and I was unable to watch them. 

I heard, but didn't see, our encounter with Longbottom's rememberall, our detention first year, the Quidditch match I lost because I was too busy taunting him, my position on Mudbloods, mocking him for being afraid of Dementors, my comments regarding Sirius Black, getting attacked by Buckbeak, being punched by Granger... I was a terrible, terrible person. How could he even love me? I didn't love me!

I closed my eyes and listed to my comments regarding the Triwizard Cup, the Death Eaters attack at the Quidditch World Cup, the memories of how I'd sold him out to Rita Skeeter. I looked up at that, curious as to how he knew that. I didn't recall ever telling anyone about giving Rita 'the inside scoop'. 

He shrugged, smiled that crooked smile at me, and dove right into Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad and how he'd been instrumental in sending my father to Azkaban the first time. I got to relive the moment I cast the full body bind and stomped on his face from his perspective. The courtroom's gasp of horror hid my own. The brutality of that attack! I was a monster. I wiped a tear off my cheek and caught my mother's eye. She was smiling and nodding. Obviously, this was their plan, but I didn't understand how it was going to win me my freedom.

I ducked my head as I heard the memories of Potter casting sectumsempra and learning that I was the one who had brought the Death Eaters into Hogwarts. The courtroom quietly expressed their displeasure at that memory. I did, too. I knew it was wrong, but I had done it to save my family. That made it less bad, didn't it?

Potter walked over to me and looked down, a fond smile on his face. "I've shown you all the horrible things that Mr. Malfoy had done up to our sixth year at Hogwarts, but I haven't shown you the memory of the night Mr. Malfoy visibly proved that he wasn't the Death Eater, no, the son his father expected him to be. _The son his father DEMANDED he be_." Potter said that last sentence with such force that even Kingsley was taken aback. I bit my bottom lip to keep from smiling. Potter certainly knew how to work a room. That must have been Mother's doing. She'd always had a flair for the dramatic.

Potter slowly revealed the bottle with the penultimate memory and poured it into the pensieve with a flourish. The memory started with he and Dumbledore in the Astronomy Tower, mere moments before Dumbledore had bound him with the freezing charm. It continued with Dumbledore's offer to protect me, despite the knowledge of all I had done. I watched as I lowered my wand and allowed Snape to kill the Headmaster. Once the memory ended, Harry cleared his throat. "Mr. Malfoy was caught in a catch-22 of his own making. He was a naive young boy who only wanted to win his father's approval. By the time he realised that he didn't want to be that person, it was too late. Mr. Malfoy lowered his wand, unable to complete the task he was given by Lord Voldemort himself. I repeat, Mr. Malfoy LOWERED his wand, unable to complete the task, knowing that failure to do so was a death sentence." 

"Mr. Malfoy was a changed man after that night in the Tower. How could he not be? During our seventh year, as my friends and I were tracking down horcruxes, we were captured and brought to Malfoy Manor. Mr. Malfoy was asked to identify us, and he stalled in doing so. It may not be much, but it was enough for me to believe that maybe, just maybe, he was a different person than the one I thought I knew during the six previous years."

Potter first poured out the memory of that night and followed it with his memory of what had happened in the Room of Requirement. My cries of "DON'T KILL HIM! DON'T KILL HIM!" rang through the courtroom, juxtaposed over Potter's memories of saving me from the Fiendfyre.

Finally, Potter showed his memories of the way I had insinuated myself into his post-Hogwarts, post-War, life, my admissions that I wanted to die, and that I was ready for Azkaban. I wasn't expecting what I saw next. Potter was sitting with my mother in the kitchen at Grimmauld Place:

_"Why does everyone ask me if I'm OK? Isn't it obvious that I'm not? I don't think I've ever been OK. My parents were murdered in cold blood. I murdered their killer, also in cold blood. People have died because of who I am. Fuck, **I've** died because of who I am. Am I supposed to be HAPPY? Am I supposed to SHAKE IT OFF? I'm sorry. This is why I like to sit in front of the fireplace with Malfoy and not talk about anything. Everyone else wants to talk. They want me to tell them how great it feels to be the Saviour of the Wizarding World, and honestly? It feels pretty shitty, Mrs. Malfoy..."_

The next memory he showed the courtroom was he and Hermione at the Burrow. I watched in horror as a very drunk Potter took his anger out on her:

_"We don't need words. What would we talk about any way? The fact that he let Death Eaters into Hogwarts? The fact that we saved his life twice? The fact that I almost killed him? The fact that he stalled for time that day in the Manor? How about the fact that I was a horcrux? The Prophesy? My death?"_

_"You should talk about it, Harry. It would be good for you."_

_"I DON'T WANT TO FUCKING TALK ABOUT IT. I want to forget it all happened. I want to go back to being eleven and living in that shitty little cupboard, when I had no idea that I was a wizard. I want to live as a Muggle and forget the Wizarding World exists."_

_"Harry, please, calm down."_

_"No. I won't. I have all kinds of memories about the terrible things Malfoy did, about the terrible things I did. This is the story of two marked boys, Hermione. One a murderer and one who only wanted to please his father. The murderer is hailed as a hero and the boy who took the wrong path is rotting in Azkaban. That's not right, 'Mione. IT'S NOT FAIR."_

_"Harry, please... stop."_

_"I'm a murderer. I killed Tom Riddle. I have Sirius's blood on my hands. Fuck. I even killed my fucking parents. They wouldn't have died if it wasn't for me and the stupid prophecy. Malfoy never killed anyone!"_

_"He would have."_

_"YOU WEREN'T THERE. HE NEVER WOULD HAVE. HE COULDN'T. HE'S NOT THE PERSON EVERYONE THINKS HE IS. I'M DEFINITELY NOT THE FUCKING PERSON THE WIZARDING WORLD THINKS I AM."_

I wiped a tear from my eye in time to see Potter walking towards me. He pulled up my shirt sleeve, putting the Dark Mark on display. Then he lifted up his hair to show off his scar. "Two marked boys. One accused of lesser crimes and being an accessory to murder. The other one, a cold-blooded killer. One will be sentenced to death in Azkaban and the other is hailed as a hero. I ask you to think long and hard about what it was like when you were younger and eager to impress your parents. I ask you to explain to me how I am the hero, and he, the villain. Finally, I ask for leniency in Mr. Malfoy's sentencing."

Kingsley sighed and rubbed his face with his hand. "What kind of sentence do you propose, Mr. Potter? The law is pretty clear regarding the punishment of known Death Eaters, and he does wear the Mark as you just reminded us."

Potter stood up tall and faced the Minister. "I propose that Mr. Malfoy surrender his wand and live as a Muggle for a period of five years, under constant surveillance by a member of the Order of the Phoenix and, or, Dumbledore's Army. Should Mr. Malfoy disagree to those terms, then, by all means, death in Azkaban it shall be. He's already admitted that he deserves no less."

Kingsley finally realised what Potter's endgame was and nodded. "As you have made perfectly clear, Mr. Malfoy is on a path to redemption. As you have also made abundantly clear, you yourself are guilty of a far greater crime than he. However, the Ministry has, and will continue to, turn a blind eye to your crimes due to whom your victim was. For the record, the Ministry will choose to ignore your admission of guilt regarding the murder of Lord Voldemort, once known as Tom Riddle." He took a good long look at me and sighed. "Mr. Malfoy, I agree with Mr. Potter's terms as long as he is willing to be the Wizard in charge of your case. I know of no one better to watch over you and keep you from straying off your path. Do you agree with those terms?"

I pretended to think it over. "I agree to those terms."

"Very well, Mr. Malfoy. You are free to go."


	15. Listen

Potter was mouthing the words 'I love you' against the skin on my neck. "Go back to sleep, Potter." I rolled over and sleepily kissed him. "It's still dark outside."

"I don't want to go back to sleep."

"You're such a child." I smiled. "It's not like it's Christmas morning. Today's nothing special. It's just a Saturday. Go back to sleep."

"Fuck you, Malfoy. It's not just a Saturday and you know it." He tickled me, making me squeal and wiggle under his fingers.

Finally, he relented and I pretended to think. "Hmmmm. Let's see. It's July 31st. It's a Saturday. Nope. Nothing's ringing a bell."

"Why is it that your birthday is a national holiday and you manage to forget mine every year?" Potter sighed and flopped on his back. "You would think that after nine years, I'd be used to it."

I rested my head on his chest and looked around the small bedroom. We were still in the tiny flat near Kew Bridge that we had moved into after my trial. Hermione and Ron had moved into Grimmauld Place, and Mother was back to holding court at the Manor. "I haven't forgotten every year. Only the first nine," I teased.

He kissed the top of my head. "Prat."

"And yet you still love me." I kissed him soundly.

"And yet I still do." Potter agreed, a huge grin on his face.

#

I looked around the formal dining room at the Manor, unable to keep the smile off of my face. All of the Weasleys were there, Granger, even Kreacher had chosen to make an appearance. The old house elf came over to the table and stood by Potter. "The House Elves would like to wish Mr. Harry Potter a very happy birthday." He held up a fairy cake. "Mr. Malfoy insisted we fetch this exact fairy cake from Honeydukes."

I winked at Potter, a cheeky smile on my face. Potter smiled back and I knew he was thinking of the first fairy cake, our first birthday together. "I think I'll save this for later, but thank you, Kreacher. Please pass my gratitude on to the other house elves."

"As Mr. Potter wishes." Kreacher vanished with a loud pop.

"I think it's time for gifts, Potter." I walked over to the sideboard which was practically groaning under the weight of all the presents.

Potter blushed and stood up. "You guys are going to make a big deal out of this, aren't you?"

"I missed your first birthday because I was in Azkaban. I think the fact that I'm still here, nine birthdays later, deserves to have a big deal made of it." I kissed him on the cheek and sat back down. "Now, get on with it!"

Potter made quick work of the presents. He must have realised that he hadn't opened one from me yet, because he looked at me, hurt and confusion clear in those green eyes. I couldn't help myself and laughed. "Did you really think I'd go through all this trouble and then forget your gift?" I reached into my suit jacket and pulled out a long slim box. "Here."

Potter took the box and unwrapped it. Inside was a box with the Rolex logo on it. "You bought me a watch?"

"Open the box," I sighed. "Honestly, Potter. It's just a box. It's not going to bite you."

Potter opened the box and found the watch face down on its velvet cushion. A small square of paper was covering the back of the watch. Potter read it and looked at me. "Listen? It says, 'listen'. What does that mean?"

"Listen." I reached across the table and took his hand. "Ten years ago, I wouldn't have ever believed we'd be here like this. I mean, Weasleys! In the Manor!" George threw a balled up napkin at me, which I easily swatted away. "OK. Seriously. You stupid, brilliant, hero... You never gave up on me, even when I gave up on myself." I choked on the words, tears flowing freely down my face. A long time ago, I would have been embarrassed by the show of emotion, but today I embraced it. "I think I fell in love with you that day at Madame Malkin's..." I wiped the tears off my cheeks, and paused, trying to collect my train of thought. "Shit. I lost track of where that was going." I laughed with the others. "Fuck it. Potter, pull off the note."

Potter did and read the inscription. **"I believe you."**

Potter looked up, confused. Then he remembered two impossibly young boys, laying in bed together, waiting for the inevitable to happen. Him declaring that I was coming home from Azkaban and that we were going to share a bed every night. For the rest of our lives. Me saying I wished I believed him... I did now.

His eyes locked onto mine, and I knew it was now or never. "Harry James Potter, will you marry me?"

"Why not? It's not like I have anyone better lined up." He smiled at me, those beautiful green eyes twinkling. 

"A simple yes would have sufficed."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for making it to the end! I really hope that you enjoyed reading it as much as I loved writing it.


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